A Reading from the Holy Gospel according to Luke: Filled with the Holy Spirit, Jesus returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days, to be tempted by the devil. He ate nothing during those days, and when they were over he was hungry. The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, One does not live... Read more
“Can you voice?” asked Rose one evening, as usual. “Voicing” is how Rosie makes up her stories. Rosie has a dollhouse, a big plastic Barbie dreamhouse inhabited by G. I. Joes and Japanese UltraMan action figures. She likes to make accessories and miniatures for her dollhouse out of paper. But she doesn’t often move the characters around the dollhouse as she plays anymore. She sets them up as a tableau to start with, and then she comes to me and says... Read more
I just want to remind everyone that if you suffer from religious trauma, or really any kind of trauma, you don’t have to give something up for Lent. You don’t have to add a penance that hurts for Lent. On this blog we’ve covered the fact that penance isn’t about hurting yourself in the first place, but especially if you’re already hurting from trauma. It is perfectly fine to do no special penance for Lent, or to resolve to... Read more
It’s supposed to be Fat Tuesday, a day to have a little fun. There’s never a Mardi Gras in Steubenville, of course. You can buy Mardi Gras beads at the Dollar Tree but that’s about it. Rosie and I bought cake mix and icing yesterday on our weekly shopping expedition. I said it would be good to have a little party before Lent. I told her since she doesn’t like meat anyway, she has to be good about giving... Read more
Just a momentary time-out to explain something that ought to be obvious. I am anti-war. For as long as I’ve been blogging I’ve been anti-war. War is always wrong. War is hell and it’s from hell. It’s always a tragedy and a sin. I am anti ALL war, including and especially the ruthless imperialist wars my own country has waged against other people. The people of Ukraine did not choose a war. They were minding their own business when... Read more
I’ve got a few more remarks on the horrendous invasion of Ukraine this week. The first thing I want to do is express my wholehearted support and admiration for the Ukrainian people. They are showing the world true courage against impossible odds. Every time I see the photo of Zalensky in military fatigues defending Kyiv I get chills. Every story I hear of citizens taking up arms and holding their ground makes me admire them more. My heart and prayers... Read more
I never feel I have anything good to say, on days like this. I’m watching Putin’s unprovoked assault on Ukraine, in horror, as I’m sure you are. At the moment I’m watching the shelling of Kyiv. I am thinking of the people hiding in the subway station, listening to those explosions, and praying for them. I call this “Putin’s assault” deliberately, because the Russian people themselves don’t want this. They’ve been out in the streets chanting “no war” all across... Read more
I looked back at some old posts today and realized we’ve reached the one year anniversary of shaving my head to hide the bald spots. The one-year anniversary of my improperly administered glucose tolerance test. The one year anniversary of my getting on metformin for exactly five days, and the disastrous side effects. That means it’s about thirteen months since my diagnosis. I have had the symptoms of inflammatory poly-cystic ovary syndrome since I was eleven. I didn’t get... Read more
It started last week, I suppose, when a social media friend who was suffering from religious trauma admitted she hadn’t been going to Mass regularly. She asked on Twitter if people could give her advice about why to go back to regular Sunday liturgies. Many people tried to help, and what’s more I think some people actually were helpful. But others were not. One particularly pompous theologian asked “Because you finally accepted the fact that it’s not all about you?”... Read more
There is a man named Pete. He rides the bus almost every day. I used to ride the bus every day, so I saw him a lot– a gray-haired man, all skin and bones, gray hair, red cheeks, and secondhand clothes. He had a great big duffle-gray suitcase on wheels he carried with him. It was stuffed with his belongings, always including a few paintings in cheap thrift store frames. Some are compositions he made by mixing different colors... Read more
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